


Akamatsu, Amami and Iruma's foolproof advices for morons

by chuwuyas



Series: unclassified files (ultimate academy for horny juveniles) [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Casual Make Outs, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Not Beta Read, Oma Kokichi Is a Little Shit, Sexual Humor, Top Saihara Shuichi, Wet Dream, bro stop being horny you're scaring the hoes, but with mentions of bottom shuichi too, they're like 17 or sumn here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuwuyas/pseuds/chuwuyas
Summary: “Say, Akamatsu-san,” Saihara said, eyes still connected to the purple-haired boy sitting a few meters away from him but voice directed to the girl sitting right next to him. She didn’t look up from the score she was reading, but let out a soft ‘mhm’ sound to let him know she was listening to him. “Have you ever had, uh- a dream about a random person and when you woke up you found yourself, for some reason… Kind of weirdly attracted to them?”Akamatsu blinked, then frowned at the music score before looking sideways at him. “What sorta dream?”Saihara widened his eyes, feeling his cheeks acquiring a red tone, and looked away from her. “W-well-”Acknowledgement sparkled behind Akamatsu’s bright eyes, and Saihara immediately regretted ever saying something in the first place. “Ohh, I see,” she said with a giggle, looking back to her score with a sly smirk. “This sorta dream.”Or;The one where Saihara has a lewd dream about Ouma one night, wakes up weirdly attracted to him, and doesn’t know what to do about it. There’s a bet and bananas involved. Momota cries. It’s absolute chaos.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Saihara Shuichi & Everyone
Series: unclassified files (ultimate academy for horny juveniles) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944553
Comments: 59
Kudos: 532





	Akamatsu, Amami and Iruma's foolproof advices for morons

**Author's Note:**

> [kicks the door open of yet another fandom three years late with Starbucks]: *Obi-Wan Kenobi voice* why hello there.
> 
> Bro this is kinda confusing. They're still trapped in the school and are supposed to be killing each other but Monokuma is not even mentioned here, everyone is alive and Tsumugi is not the mastermind. Also they have different clothes to wear because I said so.
> 
> The alternate title of this story is "Shuichi is horny AF and no one can stand his shit."
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> [P.S: Some of the dream sex scenes are quite long, especially the third one, so if you wanna skip the sex scenes just roll the screen down from the section break before the full-italic sentences to the next section break or until the full-italic sentences stop.]

To be honest, he doesn’t know exactly _when_ or _why_ it started.

It happened rather randomly, out of nowhere, so if you asked him “why” he wouldn’t know the answer. He, however, remembered quite clearly when it happened.

_“Sai- nghh- hara-chan~”_

_Ouma’s back arched on the wall when Saihara kissed his neck, lithe legs wrapped around Saihara’s thin waist, body being held up by strong arms, his hands tangled up with silk-like dark strands. Saihara could feel both of their very apparent erections rubbing against each other over way too many layers of clothes._

_Way too many._

_He stopped kissing and biting Ouma’s neck when he successfully marked the milky skin with a reddish hickey that soon enough would start turning purple, matching the hickeys all over Saihara’s own neck, and moved to kiss Ouma’s swollen lips with an open mouth once again, addicted to the taste of his mouth. Ouma quickly followed his lead, melting into the kiss with an obscene moan that sounded like music to Saihara’s ears, kissing Saihara back with a feverish will that made him dizzy with lust._

_They moaned loudly together in each other’s mouth when Ouma once again arched his back against the wall and made their erections grind harshly against each other._

_“S-shit,” Saihara breathed, and Ouma promptly swallowed each one of his moans. “O-Ouma-kun, ah-”_

_“Hmm,” Ouma hummed, rolling his hips forward and making their erections rub harshly against each other once more, taking a beautiful moan from Saihara’s mouth that was once again promptly swallowed. “Saihara-chan, nghh, can I-”_

_He cut himself in the middle of his sentence, breaking the kiss and pushing Saihara backwards until he could jump off his lap. Saihara let him, watching him with misty eyes, allowing the shorter boy to do whatever he wanted to. Not even a second after letting go of Ouma, Saihara was pushed towards the bed and soon enough his field of vision was filled once again with long purple strands and a beautiful naughty expression, milky skin flushed with a beautiful tone of pink and foggy lavender eyes that seemed to stare right into Saihara’s soul and know each one of his secrets, each one of the dirty thoughts going on inside his mind at that moment._

_Saihara would honestly never get tired of Ouma’s dirty stares._

_After pushing him towards the bed, Ouma wasted no time before climbing over Saihara, sitting over his very hard and apparent cock and moving his hips forward oh so slowly, taking a long and deep moan from Saihara, almost like he wanted to torture him. A Cheshire cat smile appeared on Ouma’s lips when Saihara brought his hands to rest on his hips, knowing he’s got him on his trap, and Saihara was gone._

_He blinked, and their remaining clothes were gone. Blinking again, he was now hovering Ouma and staring at him from above, with a clear vision of his silky purple hair sprawled on his pillow and his flushed skin seeming to glow with sweat drops, mouth half-opened with a forever smug smile that always drove him crazy, beautiful sounds escaping those sinful lips as Saihara shoved himself deeper and deeper inside of Ouma until none of them could tell where Saihara ended and Ouma started. Moans echoed around the room like a dirty melody, sounds of naked skin hitting naked skin joining the moans and making everything twice as dirty, and Saihara swore the air never felt so hot before._ Especially _with the way Ouma’s arms wrapped around Saihara’s shoulders and pulled him closer, what made his lips be directly against the detective’s ear, making each one of his moans reach Saihara’s hearing crystal-clearly._

 _“A-ah! Saihara-chan-” Ouma cried, back arching on the bed and legs wrapped around Saihara’s waist, short nails scratching Saihara’s back not quite enough to draw blood but enough to hurt a little, making the detective let out a moan and a hiss at the same time. “Saihara-chan._ Shumai- ” _he breathed, eyes rolling to the back of his head when Saihara hit that spot inside of him. “Ah, Shumai, I’m- I’m gonna-”_

_Saihara instantly understood what he meant. He thrusted himself even deeper, harder, faster, taking incoherent moans and whines from Ouma, kissing away the tears of joy that streamed down his flushed face. He felt himself getting closer and closer, his thrusts starting to get uncoordinated and unsteady._

_“S-Shumai!”_

_Saihara captured Ouma’s lips on his when he felt the boy starting to tremble, feeling his orgasm coming to him. He closed his eyes, swallowing Ouma’s moans and whines as he came, and felt himself ready to unload inside of the boy not long after._

_“Ouma-kun, I-” he moaned and-_

His eyes snapped open.

He was greeted with the usual sight of his room’s ceiling, still dark from dawn, with little to no sunlight entering the room through the gap beneath the door and the closed curtains. The room felt way too hot for his taste, his vision felt dizzy, his breath was unsteady and his pants felt way too tight. 

(He didn’t know about the other stuff, but he quickly found out the reason why his pants felt too tight was because he had a very apparent boner forming a tent in his pajamas.)

Uh.

“What… The hell?” He whispered in the silent and dark room with a frown, his heartbeat racing in his chest and breathless. Blindly, he searched for another person on his bed just to make sure, but all he found were his messy sheets.

Did he-

Did he just have a fucking wet dream about _Ouma Fucking Kokichi?_

Saihara then held his breath, frowned again, and only half-shouted: “What the _hell?!”  
  
_

* * *

  
Breakfast with his friends that morning was… _Something._

It wasn’t the first time Saihara had a wet dream about someone, of course it wasn’t (he was a _teenager,_ for fuck’s sake), but it was the first time he had a wet dream about someone who was, uh… Relatively _close_ to him.

After taking a cold shower that morning, he followed to the dining hall like usual to meet with his friends for their shared breakfast. Nothing out of the ordinary. Arriving the dining hall, he was met by half of them already there, sitting by the table, some already eating and others just sitting there and talking; Shinguji was helping Tojo with the food, Iruma was working on some weird-looking machine that Saihara _did not_ want to know what it was for, Momota was laughing at something Akamatsu said, Hoshi was eating in silence and Chabashira was excitedly talking to Yumeno, who didn’t seem very happy about the girl’s overwhelming energy so early in the morning.

Akamatsu was the first one to notice him, waving at him from her usual spot at the table. “Ah, Shuichi! Good morning.”

Momota was quick to notice him after Akamatsu, opening a huge smile and waving as well. “Hey bro!”

Saihara smiled, then stepped towards his best friends.

However, before he could step further into the dining hall, an additional weight was suddenly pressed against his back and thin arms wrapped around his waist, keeping him in place.

“Morning, Shumai~”

Saihara stopped.

He looked at the boy pressed against his back from over his shoulders, being met with a mess of purple hair strands. It didn’t look like Ouma had brushed his hair before coming to the dining hall, but his hair seemed soft nevertheless. Saihara wondered if his hair was as soft as it looked.

Wait, what the fuck?

“Uh,” Saihara said, praying to all the gods he knew for him not to be blushing right now. “Morning, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma didn’t say anything else after this, just smiled at Saihara and let go of his waist, like he had already accomplished his goal. He stepped into the dining hall with happy little jumps, going to his usual spot next to Iruma and sitting down cross-legged, waving at Tojo to let her know he was gonna eat as well. Saihara snorted at his childishly, kind of cute manner and faced him for only a second before sighing and finally entering the dining hall, going to his usual spot next to Akamatsu and in front of Ouma.

Only then he noticed his previous thought and frowned at himself.

_‘Kind of cute…?’_

“Morning, Shuichi,” Akamatsu said again once he sat down next to her. She had some papers on her hands filled with music scores, probably studying for a new song. “Did you sleep well?”

“Y-yeah,” he replied, cursing himself internally for stuttering. “You?”

If Akamatsu noticed his stutter, she didn’t say anything. “It was fine,” she replied. “I stayed up almost all night studying this scores, but I had a good short night of sleep.”

“I see,” he nodded. “New song?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I found out Shirogane-san has a really nice voice and Shinguji-kun can play the violin, so we’ll try to mix everything together later to see if it works.”

“I see,” Saihara nodded again. “Let me know when you’re done.”

“Me too!” Momota said, mouth full of food, gaining an angry glare from Harukawa next to him. He silently apologized to her, making Akamatsu giggle.

She smiled. “Sure will.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after this, with Akamatsu still studying the scores and adding notes here or there with a pencil she borrowed from Angie while Saihara watched his other friends in silence so he wouldn’t disturb Akamatsu; Gonta and K1-B0 joined them at the dining hall not longer after Saihara himself, followed by Angie and Shirogane. Amami was the last one to arrive the dining hall, claiming he had overslept and apologizing. Not longer after this, the dining hall was filled with multiple different conversations, and for the first time in his life, Saihara was honestly _glad_ because of this.

Because the loud fuss distracted him from the purple-haired boy sitting immediately in front of him, looking at him with an expression hard to understand and a smug smile like he simply _knew_ Saihara had a dirty dream about him the night before.

Did Ouma always look at him like that?

When Ouma noticed Saihara staring, he winked and bit his lower lip to hold up an even bigger smile, and Saihara felt a shiver run through his spine.

_Did Ouma always look at him like that?  
  
_

* * *

  
Later that day, Saihara found himself getting dragged to Hoshi’s lab along with Akamatsu and Momota.

There wasn’t a specific reason, actually. Momota just heard that some people were gathering there and wanted him to be there as well (even though Saihara knew pretty damn well that Momota would leave him alone the moment someone asked him for a tennis match because he secretly loved a challenge), and Akamatsu just loved to be around her friends even when she was focused on her music scores, so this is how Saihara found himself sitting next to Akamatsu on the floor a little bit far away from their friends while he watched the tennis match between Hoshi himself and Angie, with Iruma as the referee and seeming to be enjoying quite a lot to be bossing her classmates. Momota was standing by the referee’s chair, waiting for his turn; Yumeno was there too, but sitting by the referee’s chair and with a deck of cards on her hands, seeming to be showing some magic tricks to Chabashira, K1-B0, Gonta, Shirogane and Ouma. From distance, Saihara could see the exact moment Yumeno made a magic trick that caught everyone off guard, their shocked and excited faces and surprised gasps being clearly seen even from where he was sitting. Even _Ouma_ seemed surprised, his mouth falling open and eyebrows raising until they disappeared under his hair, eyes sparkling in excitement, body jolting slightly in wonder, and _damn_ if he didn’t look cute as fuck like this. 

Then, at some point, their eyes met and Ouma waved lazily at him, wearing one of his smug smiles. He then winked, blew a kiss, and Saihara’s heart skipped a beat, but he couldn’t help but giggle softly and smile back at Ouma, thinking once again it was kind of cute. This seemed to catch the boy out of guard, but as quick as the surprised expression took over Ouma’s face it was gone and his usual smug expression was back.

Now hold on a second.

_‘Cute’?_

Saihara frowned at himself again for what seemed to be the hundredth time just that morning, eyes narrowing at his own thoughts. He never thought Ouma was cute before, but suddenly he found himself weirdly attracted to him –of course, he was aware that Ouma was pretty, but it was always only that. He never imagined one day he would find the boy _cute_ cute.

“Say, Akamatsu-san,” Saihara said, eyes still connected to the purple-haired boy sitting a few meters away from him but voice directed to the girl sitting right next to him. She didn’t look up from the score she was reading, but let out a soft ‘mhm’ sound to let him know that she was listening to him. “Have you ever had, uh- a _dream_ about a random person and when you woke up you found yourself, for some reason… Kind of weirdly attracted to them?”

Akamatsu blinked, then frowned at the music score before looking sideways at him. “What sorta dream?”

Saihara widened his eyes, feeling his cheeks acquiring a red tone, and looked away from her. “W-well-”

Acknowledgement sparkled behind Akamatsu’s bright eyes, and Saihara immediately regretted ever saying something in the first place. “Ohh, I see,” she said with a giggle, looking back to her score with a sly smirk. _“This_ sorta dream.”

“Y-yeah,” he said, embarrassment reddening his face. “Have you?”

“Yeah, of course. Who haven’t?” she replied, adding notes to the music score. “I have those quite a lot, if I’m being honest. It’s quite a pain. Did you have one of those last night?”

“Yeah,” Saihara replied, sliding further in the floor and bringing his legs up so he couldn’t see Ouma. “When you have those dreams, what do you usually do?”

Akamatsu looked up from her score once again, arching an eyebrow. “Are you asking if I mas-”

“N-no!” Saihara quickly said, a little bit too loud, making Akamatsu chuckle. “I’m talking about the attraction you suddenly feel towards the person you dreamed about!”

“Oh,” Akamatsu said, acknowledgement crossing her face once again before giggling. “I don’t really do anything, I just wait for the attraction to go away. For me it usually lasts for about a week or so. No big deal.”

Saihara chewed his lips, eyes travelling to where Ouma was still sitting for only a second before looking away. So he just have to forget about it, uh? He could do it. “... I see. Thank you, Akamatsu-san.”

“No problem. Just try to forget about it,” she smiled, then returned to her score. Saihara let her, starting to watch the tennis match between Momota and Hoshi. They were in silence for about two minutes before she spoke again. “Sooo… Who is it?”

“W-what?”

“The person you had a lewd dream about,” Akamatsu explained, a sly smirk on her lips. “It has to be one of us, right? So who is it?”

“Um, you said the attraction would go away in a week or so, so I don’t think I should tell you.” Saihara said, feeling his face burn. He blocked Ouma’s view with his legs once again.

“Is it Momota-kun?”

“What? No!” Saihara shouted, making Akamatsu laugh deeply next to him. His face became even redder when some of their friends turned to look at him when they heard him shout. “Uh, no. Not him.”

“You two are always together, so I thought it could have been,” she giggled. “Harukawa-san, then?”

“No!”

“Iruma-san? You know, I had a lewd dream about Iruma-san once and _let me tell you,_ it was _good shi-”_

“Not her either!”

“Aw,” Akamatsu pouted. “... What about Shinguji-kun? He’s kinda creepy but he’s also kinda hot. I think he’s into kinky shi-”

“No!”

“Aw,” she pouted again, then tapped her finger on her chin and chewed her lips like she was deep in thought. After a moment, her eyes sparkled with recognition, and Saihara immediately knew he was in trouble. “Ah! Was it Ouma-kun?”

“... N-no.”

“Oh, it totally was!” Akamatsu said, clapping her hands together. “Is this why you blushed during breakfast when he hugged you and kept glancing at him at the table?”

Saihara widened his eyes in complete terror. “I did _what?!”_

This reaction seemed to satisfy Akamatsu, like it was exactly what she was looking for. She arched an eyebrow. “Is this also why you’re currently trying to avoid looking at him? Because you had a lewd dream about him?”

“I-I’m not trying to avoid looking at him!” Saihara protested, glancing at Ouma from over his knees. Luckily, the boy wasn’t looking at him.

Akamatsu’s eyebrow arched even further. “But you _had_ a lewd dream about him?”

_Shit._

“W-well…” Saihara tried, but he already knew there was no way of denying it now. She got him. “It doesn’t matter. You said it would go away in a week or so, right?”

Akamatsu giggled. “Aw, you got a crush,” she mocked, then sighed dramatically and held her chest with one hand, pretending to whip away a tear with the other. “They grow up _so fast-”_

“Shush, it’s not a crush!” Saihara hissed, but Akamatsu giggled even louder.

“Shuichi and Ouma-kun, sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G~”

“Stop it!” Saihara said with a loud and exasperated whisper, trying to ignore his flushed cheeks. “What if someone hears it? What if _he_ hears it?!”

“What if who hears what?”

Saihara widened his eyes and looked away from Akamatsu to Ouma, now standing in front of them with his usual grin and hands behind his back, leaning towards Saihara and with his head tilted to the side in curiosity. Saihara resisted the urge of closing his eyes to pray; _if God is real, please don’t let Ouma hear what Akamatsu was saying._

“A-ah! Ouma-kun,” Saihara said, cursing himself internally for stuttering. “Nothing important, don’t worry. Is something wrong?”

Ouma stared at Saihara in silence for a moment, lips closed in a thin line before his usual smug grin returned to his face. If he noticed Saihara’s lie, he didn’t say anything. “Yumeno-chan suggested some games for us all to play but no one wants to go to the game room to check which games they have so you have to go with me!”

“W-what?! Why me?!”

“Because you were the chosen one!” Ouma excitedly said, throwing his arms up. Then, his voice lowered almost to a whisper and he smirked, index finger in front of his mouth like he was about to tell a secret. “Also you’re my favorite, Shumai.”

It wasn’t the first time Ouma called him ‘Shumai’ or told him that he’s his favorite, but the phrase this time sounded so full of hidden meanings that made Saihara blush. _Especially_ with the use of the nickname, now that it was tainted with dirty memories of his dream last night.

 _The attraction will go away in a week or so, just forget about it,_ Saihara told himself internally as he sighed, excused himself and followed Ouma towards the library. _A week or so._

_A week or so.  
  
_

* * *

_  
“A-ah, Saihara-kun, l-like that.” _

_Saihara hummed, thrusting himself deeper inside Ouma in an angle that he knew that was gonna drive the boy crazy. Although Ouma was quite slim, Saihara’s legs ached from sustaining the boy’s weight from too much time, fighting to keep his body still as he fucked him hard against the bathroom wall, both of their bodies soaked with sweat because of their too many layers of clothes._

_“Be quiet,” Saihara found himself whispering against Ouma’s ear, voice hoarse and deep, serious, but with a tiny trace of amusement. “Our friends are just in the next room, marathoning the game together just like we should’ve been doing. You wouldn’t want them to hear you begging me to fuck you like a whore, would you? Or do you want them to find out that shy, little Ouma-kun is actually a cockslut?”_

_“N-no,” Ouma stuttered, eyes closed and mouth half-opened, eyebrows connected. He let out a strangled whine when Saihara once again hit that spot inside of him, making him tremble from head to toe, squeezing Saihara’s waist with his thighs and pulling his dark hair strands. “Ah, S-Saihara-kun!”_

_“Quiet,” Saihara hissed, biting an exposed part of Ouma’s shoulder and shoving himself even deeper, letting out a deep moan against the now marked skin. “Fuck- Kokichi, you’re so- holy shit-”_

_“S-Saihara-kun, I’m gonna- a-ah-”_

_Ouma came with a high-pitched whine, hiding his face on the crook of Saihara’s neck to muffle his cries and moans, squeezing his eyes shut and letting the tears of joy stream down his flushed face, and it was honestly a really fucking beautiful view to have as one came. Saihara emptied not longer after that, coming with a heavy moan and biting Ouma’s shoulder with enough force to draw blood, taking another whine and a moan from the boy himself. Saihara only opened his eyes when he felt Ouma kissing his face, and he moved his face to kiss the boy properly on the mouth._

_They only broke the kiss when the air made itself really necessary, a small thread of saliva connecting both swollen lips together even after the kiss was over, drool dripping from both chins. Saihara’s lower lip had a small cut still bleeding from when Ouma bit him a little to hard not long ago. Ouma’s shoulder had four apparent teeth marks, two of them bleeding. They were a mess._

_And it was so fucking beautiful.  
  
_

* * *

  
So, you see.

The attraction _did not,_ in fact, go away after a week or so. 

“If you’re so worried about this, just ask him to make out with you.”

Saihara gasped, choking on his own saliva and coughing a few times to recover himself after those words were spoken. Luckily, no one was there besides him, Amami and Shirogane, so no one would know about this little loss of dignity. 

_“What?!”_ Saihara asked in a high-pitched voice after he recomposed, staring at Amami with widened eyes full of fear. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” Amami, always so composed Amami, replied. “It’s no big deal, really. People make out casually with each other all the time.”

“B-but! I can’t just come to him and say _‘hey so I’ve been having these dirty dreams about you for like two weeks and they don’t stop even though I tried really hard to forget about them, can we make out?’,_ he’s gonna laugh at my face and mock me!”

Amami chuckled, holding the brush of a bottle of black nail polish. “He won’t laugh _–stop moving–,_ and he won’t say no either.”

“Sorry,” Saihara apologized, trying to stop moving his hands so Amami could apply the nail polish without smudging it. “How can you be so sure he won’t say no?”

“Because you're his favorite,” Amami simply replied. “You know that, don’t you?”

Shirogane nodded from where she was reading a manga. “He’s got a point.”

“I’m pretty sure he only says that because he likes to tease me.”

Amami looked up from his nails to give Saihara a disappointed-but-not-surprised look. “Wow, for a detective you sure are slow.”

Shirogane snorted, Saihara grumbled. “Thanks, Amami-kun. How considerate.”

“I mean it,” Amami said with a soft chuckle, returning to his task. “But you’re curious, aren’t you? If you keep having these dreams, even though you tried to forget about them like Akamatsu-san suggested you to, is because you’re curious.”

Saihara grumbled again, looking down at his lap so his hair would hide his face and slightly flushed cheeks. “Um… Perhaps.”

“So ask him for a kiss,” Amami said. “You’ll satisfy your curiosity and the dreams will most likely stop.”

“But…” he tried, still unsure. “What if he, uh… Doesn’t like boys _that_ way?”

Shirogane laughed. _Deeply._ “Ah, that’s a good joke. I didn’t know you used to joke like this,” she said between amused giggles, but when she saw that Saihara was just staring at her with confusion, she abruptly stopped. “Oh. _Oh,_ you’re serious.”

“Saihara-kun, let me tell you one thing,” Amami snorted, taking pity at Saihara because of Shirogane’s giggles. He stopped painting Saihara’s nails and held his hands, giving a soft squeeze, and held Saihara’s stare. “No one, and I mean _no one,_ in this school is straight, but _especially_ Ouma-kun.”

Saihara chewed his lips. “...I still don’t want him to feel like I’m using him.”

“I’m pretty sure he won’t,” Shirogane said from her spot on the couch, recovering from her laughter outburst and flipping a page of her manga. “We’re teenagers, after all. Teenagers have hormones, teenagers are horny. He definitely won’t say no, _especially_ to you; if anything, he’ll probably feel really happy that his _‘favorite’_ asked him for a kiss.”

“It’s just a kiss,” Amami complemented Shirogane’s words, finishing Saihara’s nails. “Like she said, we’re teenagers, and most teenagers have casual sex and make out sessions all the time. It’s really not a big deal. Take Iruma-san for example-”

Shirogane scoffed. _“Terrible_ example.”

“Yeah, probably not the best example,” Amami snorted. “My point is, it’s normal. _Especially_ if we consider the fact that we’re teenagers with hormones locked up in a school all by ourselves without adult supervision.”

Saihara tapped his chin with his index finger. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“See? It’s okay. No worries,” Shirogane said. “But I’m curious about one thing, let me ask you.”

“Mhm. Go ahead,” Saihara murmured, Shirogane sat down on the couch.

“Are you insecure because you never kissed anyone before, because you never kissed _a boy_ before, or because it’s Ouma-kun?”

Saihara chewed his lips again, putting a hand in front of his mouth like he used to do when he was investigating stuff. “Um, the latter. The fact we’re trapped here also doesn’t make this easier. There’s nowhere to run if he rejects me or make fun of me.”

“Ah, don’t worry about this, Saihara-kun. If Ouma-kun decides to mock you,” Amami said, raising a finger. Then, his previous calm expression quickly turned into a dark one, and a creepy smile appeared on his lips. “I’ll make sure we have the first murder of this school.”  
  


**-x-x-x-  
  
**

Saihara couldn’t sleep.

It’s not like he had the best nights of sleep _before_ this whole thing started, but now it felt three times worst. Every time he laid down in bed and closed his eyes, flashes of previous dreams danced behind his eyelids, burning inside his brain, mixing together with things that happened during the _day_ –Ouma calling him “Shumai”, saying he’s his favorite, all the apparently harmless touches, the hugs, the long stares. Everything burned inside his brain like a long-term movie, and they didn’t seem to plan to go away.

Three days after the conversation he had with Amami and Shirogane, Saihara was laying down in his bed facing the ceiling above him, lights off, room dark and welcoming. Their words played like a broken record inside his brain, loud and clear, like the words were constantly being spoken to him over and over and over again. _If you’re curious, just ask him for a kiss._

Hmph.

Easier said than done.

He tried to forget about it, like Akamatsu suggested him to do. _Just don’t think about it and the dreams and the attraction will stop,_ he thought with himself every time he saw Ouma after the first dream, but it didn’t work. Not now that he accepted he was attracted to the purple-haired boy and finally noticed how cute he was, with all the coat sleeves covering his hands and sparkling eyes and apparently soft hair and cute giggles and-

_Damn it._

_“Damn it,”_ he hissed out loud, finally gathering the courage to leave his bed, pushing his loud thoughts aside for a moment. Momota would be there soon for their routine training and he needed to be ready.

But he was gonna satisfy this goddamn curiosity _today,_ after the training.  
  


**-x-x-x-**

  
Training with Momota and Harukawa followed as usual, with mostly him and Harukawa doing their exercises while Momota just laid down on the grass and looked at the stars, Harukawa annoyed at him because of this and Saihara himself only giggling at them but not quite paying attention to what they were saying, his mind completely out of there –all he could think about was Ouma and what he was gonna ask him after the training was over. _Damn it,_ even the _thought_ of asking Ouma for a make-out session left a cold in his stomach, both by anticipation and nervousness. How was he gonna ask him if only the thought of doing it made his face burn and his heart race?

“...Ichi…? Shuichi?”

“Mhm,” Saihara automatically nodded, still doing his sit-ups, eyes glassy and unfocused. He heard a soft snort next to him, but didn’t look up; before asking him what he wanted to ask, he needed to _find_ the boy first, so where would Ouma be right now?

“Bro, you listening?”

“Mhm,” he replied again; maybe Ouma was in his room?

“Oh yeah? Well, Maki Roll is pregnant.”

“Hmmmhm,” up and down, up and down; the game room? Saihara saw Ouma there a couple of times before. Maybe he was there?

“I don’t wanna be bros anymore.”

“Yeah,” but it was late at night already, so Ouma couldn’t be in the school, right?

“I like kicking kittens for fun.”

“Mhm, me too,” what about Ouma’s lab itself? Saihara was pretty sure he liked his own lab, so he could be there.

“Once I ate human flesh and it tasted good. Might as well try it again sooner.”

“Sure… Wait, _what?”_

“Oh, _now_ you’re listening,” Momota giggled, and only then Saihara noticed that Harukawa wasn’t doing the sit-ups anymore. Instead, she was sitting by Momota’s side and staring at Saihara with an oddly amused expression. “You ok bro? You seem off.”

“I’m okay, just… Thinking about some stuff,” Saihara replied, sitting down cross-legged on the grass for a moment to stretch. He then stood, tapped the dirt off his pants and stretched again. “Are we done today? I need, uh… To do something.”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Momota nodded, then stood as well. Harukawa followed them. “Do something…?”

“Yeah, I need, um… To _talk_ to someone.”

“So late at night?” Momota frowned, but not even a second later acknowledgement sparkled behind his eyes. He smirked. “Ah, I see. _This_ kind of conversation,” he tapped Saihara on the shoulder when he walked past him and gave him thumbs up. “You go, bro. Tell me about it tomorrow.”

Saihara widened his eyes. There was _no way in hell_ that he was gonna tell Momota what happened tonight if everything went fine; considering the fact Momota couldn’t stand Ouma, Momota would probably _cry._

“Y-yeah, sure,” Saihara said, just because he knew Momota would believe him. God bless him.

Harukawa, however, was another story.

She narrowed her eyes at him after he said that, like she _knew_ he was hiding something. But, luckily, she didn’t press him to say anything. Saihara let out the breath he didn’t notice he was holding after she walked past him without saying nothing more than her usual “good night”; God bless her as well.

After Momota and Harukawa disappeared from view, Saihara looked up towards the sky and stared at the bright stars above, wondering. Should he go look for Ouma now or…?

A shiver ran down his spine when a cold wind passed through him and glued his sweaty clothes to his equally sweaty skin, causing him to make a grimace.

Yeah, no. Shower first.

He returned to his room with quick steps, grimace still present on his face as he stepped into his dark room and went straight to the bathroom. He took a quick shower to wash the sweat away from his body and changed into more comfortable clothes, a grey sweater and black pants, then brushed his hair with his fingers and stopped in front of his mirror to check his appearance. It took him five whole minutes of an intense struggle to put that goddamn wild hair down before he gave up, the thin wild strand winning the battle and staring at him through the mirror like it was mocking him.

(Just _why the hell_ was he so worried about his appearance anyway?)

Leaving him room behind, Saihara had a mental list of possible places Ouma could be; first, the most obvious one: his room.

Saihara climbed the stairs towards Ouma’s room, ring the bell and waited. After a minute or so without response, he rang it again. Still no response.

 _Maybe it’s the universe telling me to forget about this stupid idea,_ Saihara internally thought before shaking his head violently. _No, no forget. Let’s do this so we can move on._

Sighing, Saihara went down the stairs and left the dormitory, already with the next location in mind where he could look for Ouma. However, he didn’t need to search for too long before he found the boy.

Ouma was sitting on one of the benches under the wisterias at the courtyard, his elbows resting on the table behind him, staring up at the sky with such a quiet expression that caught Saihara out of guard; he looked peaceful, as calm as he’s ever been, but somehow still quite troubled. Quiet wasn’t an expression that was on Ouma’s face that often, but not for the first time Saihara found himself thinking it was an expression that looked good on him –free of the usual smug smirk or the Cheshire cat smile, the sly eyes, the prick expression. Quiet looked good on Ouma. Saihara wished he could see this expression on the boy’s face more often.

Stopping in place, Saihara swallowed hard and started trembling, like he just noticed what he was about to do. Ouma didn’t seem to have noticed him yet, so he could still turn on his heels and leave him alone, not disturb the quiet expression, forget about the stupid advice Amami and Shirogane gave him. What if Ouma had that quiet expression because he was in a bad mood? Saihara didn’t want to upset him even more with the indecent proposal he was about to make.

Still…

Saihara knew that if he didn’t talk to Ouma now, he would never talk, so he took a deep breath and after a minute or so he stepped forward, praying internally for Ouma not to be in a bad mood.

Ouma didn’t look away from the sky even when Saihara announced his presence, making sure his steps were audibly so he wouldn’t accidentally startle the boy. Ouma didn’t look away from the sky, but a smirk did appear on his lips when Saihara finally reached him.

“Saihara-chan, good night,” Ouma said, still looking towards the sky. “To what do I owe the honor of this illustrious visit?”

“Night, Ouma-kun,” Saihara replied, taking the seat next to Ouma and enlacing his fingers over his lap. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

“I’ve never been better!” Ouma replied with an enthusiastic smile, but the smile, Saihara noticed, didn’t reach his eyes. “Just felt like having some fresh air. Sometimes my room gets a bit… Uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Yeah,” Ouma giggled, waving lazily with his hands as if to say it wasn’t a big deal. “Sometimes it feels kinda small, so I just leave it to walk around for a moment and look at the sky. No big deal.” He giggled again, but once again his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “What about you, Saihara-chan? Why are you out so late at night? The training with Momota-chan and Harukawa-chan is already over, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes, I just…” Saihara stuttered. This is it. This is the moment of truth. There’s no going back now. “I-I wanted to talk to you.”

Ouma blinked, finally looking away from the sky to look at Saihara. He tilted his head to the side and arched an eyebrow. “To me?”

“Y-yeah,” Saihara nodded, already feeling his cheeks burning. He chewed his lips. “So, uh-”

_Fuck._

How the hell would he say that?

“How do you, um… How do you feel about casual make outs?”

God fucking _damn it._

Ouma blinked again. “...Casual make outs?”

Saihara nodded furiously. “Yeah, casual make outs.”

“Why?” Ouma asked, his expression going from curious to suggestive in a blink of an eye, a seductive smirk appearing on his lips. “Wanna make out with me, Saihara-chan?”

_“Yes.”_

Ouma gasped, briefly widening his eyes as he started coughing from choking on his saliva, _definitely_ not expecting an affirmation. Saihara widened his own eyes, moving to pat Ouma’s back softly to help him, cursing himself internally for saying yes so abruptly.

“I’m sorry, Ouma-kun!” He apologized, face burning red from embarrassment; he just wanted a _kiss,_ damn it. He didn’t want to fucking _kill_ Ouma.

Ouma coughed for a few more seconds before finally recomposing. “It’s okay, no need to apologize. You just caught me off guard, that’s all,” he said, face also tinted slightly red, but Saihara figured it was because of the coughing. The smug smirk returned to his lips as soon as he recomposed, eyes sly and dirty. “But wow, Saihara-chan, you want a kiss from _me?_ I’m honestly flattered; my favorite, asking me for a kiss? I’m so touched I might cry~”

“Please don’t,” Saihara grumbled, fighting the urge to run away and hide in his room and never come out again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Please forget I’ve ever-”

“Woah, hold on!” Ouma said, suddenly grabbing Saihara’s arm when he stood and turned on his heels to return to the dormitories. Saihara stopped, blinking at the boy. He was greeted with the same naughty eyes and dirty smirk as before. “I didn’t say _no,_ you know.”

Saihara’s heart started beating so fast he was afraid it was going to explode.

“Oh,” he simply said. Ouma let go of his arm once he was sure Saihara wasn’t gonna run away.

“It must be my birthday~” Ouma said, and _this time_ his smile actually reached his eyes. Not only that, but they also sparkled with multiple other things that Saihara couldn’t quite decipher. “Come here, Saihara-chan~”

Saihara gulped, looked around to see if there was anyone else there and sat down back on his previous seat once he was sure they were alone. Ouma mimicked his actions, also taking a look around to see if they were alone, but then he did something that caught Saihara completely off guard.

Once he was sure no one was around, Ouma left his seat and sat on Saihara’s lap, arms holding the concrete table behind the detective in a way that Saihara was now caged between thin arms and had nowhere to run. It caught him off guard but, honestly, despite the initial shock, Saihara should’ve expected it; he didn’t know why he thought a make out session with Ouma would be soft and innocent when everything about the boy and his constant flirting was _not_ soft and innocent.

“Now, before we start,” Ouma practically _purred_ against Saihara’s ear, and even though he couldn’t see his face, Saihara knew that Ouma had his Cheshire cat smile on his lips. Unconsciously, Saihara brought his hands up to rest on Ouma’s thin waist. “May I ask you the reason why you asked for a kiss, my beloved Saihara-chan?”

“No reason,” Saihara lied, because there was no way in hell that he was gonna tell Ouma about his lewd dreams. “Just felt like it.”

“Hmmm,” Ouma hummed against Saihara’s ear again, lips brushing against the skin beneath his ear. The sound so close to his ear went straight to Saihara’s south. “Not that the reason matters, though,” Ouma proceeded, giving small chaste kisses on the entire extension of Saihara’s jaw as he whispered before _licking a fucking path_ from his jaw to his lips, stopping before his tongue could touch Saihara’s half-opened lips and hovering his face with a dirty smile and half-lidded eyes, and _god_ fucking _dammit_ if it wasn’t the hottest thing Saihara’s ever seen. “I would never say no to my favorite.”

And then he proceeded to finally kiss Saihara’s half-opened lips, and Saihara immediately knew he was not ready for the hurricane that was Ouma Kokichi.

He didn’t know if it was a normal occurrence or if it was only because it was _him,_ but Ouma kissed Saihara like he was the ocean and he was desperate to drown. It didn’t start slow and shy and gradually escalated into something dirty and filthy like his dreams, no; Ouma straight up started the kiss already with the filthiness of one of the porn movies that the AV room had (not that Saihara had, uh... _Watched_ any of those before. No way), with all the tongues and teeth and dirty sounds and the way he was moving his fucking _hips,_ goddammit. Their tongues touched _before_ their lips, for fuck’s sake.

Saihara was fucked. He was so fucking _fucked._

Ouma took lead of the kiss very quickly, but Saihara was honestly more than happy on letting him so. He kissed him deeply and slowly, intensely, then fastly and nastily and Saihara was so fucking _glad_ he decided to listen to Amami and Shirogane’s advices because otherwise he would never actually know the sounds Ouma made when he was kissing outside his imagination. He would never know that Ouma apparently liked to _bite._ He would never know the actual sounds he made when he was being kissed and the way he moved his hips harshly back and forth and the way he grabbed his hair and pulled the dark strands and-

What was the word Amami used to describe this sort of situation again? Ah… _“Horny teenagers”?_

“Hmm, Ouma-kun,” Saihara found himself sighing against Ouma’s mouth, arms now completely wrapped around Ouma’s thin waist to keep the boy as closer as possible. _“Ah-”_

“Yeah?” Ouma hummed, once again moving his hips forward, causing a delicious friction between their half-awakened cocks. He moaned on Saihara’s mouth, and _holy_ fucking _shit_ if it didn’t sound even better than his dreams. Saihara swore he never heard a sound so beautiful in his entire life.

“Isn’t this, _ah-_ isn’t this a little too intense for a casual make out session?” Saihara asked, tilting his head to the side and exposing his neck when Ouma finally broke the kiss and started kissing the entire extension of his face again, licking another path towards his neck and sucking the skin beneath his ear. Saihara prayed for him to choose a place where his hair could hide a mark just in case Ouma left a hickey behind.

“Want me to stop?” The boy asked right against his ear, biting and sucking the skin beneath his ear, and Saihara trembled from head to toes.

He sighed, drunk in Ouma. “No.”

“Good,” Ouma hummed again, a smile being visible on his words. “Because this might be the best day of my life.”

 _Good,_ Saihara thought with himself when Ouma stopped kissing his neck and returned to kiss his lips with the same voracity as before. _I’m also happy._

_Because Amami said the goddamn dreams would stop now that my curiosity was satisfied, right?_

He tried to push the thoughts aside as he kissed Ouma back with the same hunger as the boy, melting into chapped and warm lips and lithe arms and thin waists and enjoying every second of this, because once the make out session was over Saihara’s curiosity would be satisfied and the dreams would stop, right?

The dreams would definitely stop once the make out session was over, so there was nothing wrong with enjoying this a little longer, right? Right.  
  


* * *

_  
“Aw man, it’s been a while since I landed into trouble like this.” _

_Saihara frowned, staring at the man dressed in white clothes, black cloak and white mask standing some meters ahead of him, casually checking his nails as if he wasn’t trapped there. The famous Phantom Thief, as the guy called himself. The guy Saihara’s been chasing around like dog and cat for quite a few months now but never managed to catch._

_Until now._

_Finally, finally. Saihara finally managed to catch him._

_“Trapping me in a place like this… That’s very like you, Mister Detective~”_

_Saihara stared at the phantom thief in silence, lips pressed on a thin line, doing his best not to let his excitement show on his features. For someone who was trapped by a detective and was about to have his identity exposed, the phantom thief didn’t seem too concerned –even with the mask covering half of his face, Saihara could see the forever smug and provoking smile on the guy’s lips._

_“Buuuut I won’t tell you where I hid the stolen gem! Torture won’t work either, y’know.”_

_“Wh- I’m not going to torture you!” Saihara said, exasperated. “What exactly do you think a detective does?!”_

_“What? Aren’t you planning on tyin’ and roughin’ up my body?” The phantom thief said, sounding actually surprised, but Saihara knew better than let his stupid lies trick him. Then, the surprised expression turned into a disappointed one. “There’s a bed here. You’re gonna tell me you’re not planning on using it? Or are you gonna tell me this is not what happens to a phantom thief when they’re caught?”_

_“That’s-”_

_“But you know,” the phantom thief proceeded, rolling a strand of purple-colored hair on his fingers, “if you’re into some crazy kinks, even I won’t be able to keep up.”_

_Teasing. He’s teasing me. He thinks he has this situation under control, he thinks he’s in control, so he could stop this little game whenever he wants to._

_But Saihara, the phantom thief didn’t know, had an ace up his sleeves._

_“From here out, you’re the cops’ problem,” the detective said, trying his best to make his voice firm. He took a step closer to the phantom thief, eyes falling to a half-lidded state, looking at the thief from above once he was close enough. Many months of tirelessly chase led up to this moment, the moment Saihara’s been waiting for so long. “If you’re trying to rile me up to give yourself a chance to escape… No dice,_ Kokichi.”

_Even with the mask on, Saihara could see the surprise crossing the phantom thief’s eyes. Surprise from being caught, surprise from having his identity exposed. The phantom thief Saihara’s been chasing tirelessly for the past few months, Ouma Kokichi._

_After the momentary surprise of being caught was gone, Ouma smiled. “Ah, figured it out already? I knew you could do it. That’s why you’re my favorite, Saihara-chan.” He said almost in a purr, taking some few steps forward until he was immediately in front of Saihara, placing his hands on the detective’s chest. Saihara allowed him to, feeling a smile growing on his lips. Ouma then brought one of his hands to his face and touched the tip of his white mask. “Well, now that you already know my name, I guess there’s no reason to keep the mask on, uh?”_

_He then slowly removed the mask, and Saihara suddenly forgot how to breath; he’s already seen pictures of Ouma before when he was looking for his identity, but seeing this live was a whole other situation. His smirk looked twice as hot without the mask on, and the dirty look in his eyes was enough to make Saihara’s world dizzy._

_It wasn’t fair that Saihara’s main case was so hot and attractive. He was supposed to catch the phantom thief and give him to the cops and move on with his life, that’s it. So why did Saihara feel so attached to the criminal? Why was he so fond of the chasing, the shameless flirting, the sleepless nights studying evidences and blurred photos, the messy handwritten notes put on his office addressed to the detective and the detective only?_

_Why was he so fond of this little dance, this little game of them?_

_Throwing his mask behind, Ouma smiled seductively, standing on his tiptoes to make himself feel slightly taller, supporting his weight on the detective’s chest. “Say, Saihara-chan, were you bored playing with me?”_

_Saihara smirked, holding the phantom thief by the waist. “I wouldn’t say so, no.”_

_“Good, because I wasn’t bored too,” Ouma purred. “I’m always thinking about you, you know. You’re always trying your best to catch me, so I really had to give it my all to win this little game of ours.”_

_“I’m glad. A game played by only one side is not that fun,” Saihara nodded, allowing the phantom thief to wrap his arms around his shoulders. Many months of tirelessly chasing led to this moment, many months. Saihara never wanted this to end. “But the game is not over yet, is it?”_

_“Hmmm, maybe not,,” Ouma said, holding Saihara’s neck with one hand to make the detective look at him. Saihara was met with half-opened lips and half-lidded eyes misty with lust. “But let me tell you. Today, I wanted you to catch me. I wanted your eyes to be on me.”_

_Saihara hummed, holding Ouma’s gaze. “My eyes are always on you.”_

_“Only me?”_

_“Only you.”_

_“Good,” Ouma purred again. “My eyes are always on you too.”_

_“Yeah?” Saihara purred back, completely under Ouma’s spell._

_“Yeah,” the phantom thief said, “Mister Detective, Saihara-chan, my beloved, you can do whatever you want to me, and that’s the truth. So come,” he proceeded, bringing Saihara’s face closer to the point their breaths mixed together. “Play with me. Let’s do a lot more together. The night is ours.”_

_Saihara closed his eyes and met Ouma halfway through, finally smashing their lips together._

_It already started deeply and intense, pretty much like their relationship, with neither of them wanting to waste time with chaste or innocent kisses because they both knew that, although they had the night, they didn’t have all the time in the world to waste with preliminaries. Saihara allowed Ouma to push him hard towards the bed, barely having time to properly hit the mattress before the phantom thief installed himself on his lap and captured his lips on yet another deep and intense kiss, their lips tongues dancing together in perfect synchrony, and once again Saihara found himself under Ouma’s spell, completely drunk in the man and his addictive kiss._

_Their clothes were gone before Saihara could even understand what they were doing, and then Saihara was laying sprawled on the bed with Ouma sitting on his lap before he could even process what was happening, with his cock shoved deeply inside the lithe figure of the phantom thief as he rode him painfully slow and torturously, both their moans echoing loudly around the hotel room, neither of them bothering to keep it low. Months of longing and chasing led to this exact moment, and Saihara couldn’t care less if other people heard them. Not when he knew Ouma would be gone as soon as the night ended and this little exciting chasing game of cat and dog of them would begin all over again._

_Not when Ouma was riding him so good and beautifully, with his slim figure being lit by the full moon shining bright in the sky through the open curtains, circling his milky skin like a pale aura, making him look like a ghost in the dark room. His lavender eyes seemed to glow in the dark with his smug grin, and Saihara swore he’s never seen someone look so beautiful before._

_He was gone.  
  
_

* * *

  
Famous last words.

Not only did the dreams not stop after the make out session, but they got _worse._ Like, _immensely_ worse, because now Saihara _knew_ how Ouma actually sounded like when he moaned, what his mouth tasted like, how he kissed. He knew that Ouma liked to be in control of the situation, he knew that Ouma liked to bite, he knew that Ouma kissed deeply and intensely and that he liked to pull the other person’s hair as they kissed. Saihara now knew all of that like the back of his hand.

And he was about to lose his fucking _mind._

“What do I _do?”_ He grumbled, resting his forehead on the dining table. Shinguji murmured something as he flipped a page of the book he was silently reading, but Saihara couldn’t hear him.

“You need to get fuckin’ laid, that’s what you fuckin’ need.”

Saihara gasped, almost choking on his saliva. He widened his eyes and raised his head, looking towards Iruma. _“What?!”_

“Get laid,” Iruma repeated, grumpy. “You need to get laid, Pooichi. Fuckin’ virgin, getting all riled up because of some dirty dreams.” 

“I-Iruma-san!” K1-B0 said exasperatedly, eyes widening in a comical way. Shinguji scoffed.

“What? It’s true,” she insisted, sitting on the floor by the dining table and fixing some weird-looking machine that, once again, Saihara didn’t want to know what it was for. “You already stuck your tongue down the purple bastard’s throat and the dreams didn’t stop, right? So the next step is lay the fuckin’ pipe. It’s simple logic. Even someone like you has to understand it, Pooichi. I can’t believe you’re wasting my time with this shit.”

“We can’t fuck!” Saihara tried to argue, eyes still widened. “We made out _once,_ Iruma-san! Once!”

“Yeah and it fuckin’ looked like you were about to fuck right there on the fuckin’ courtyard, dickhead,” Iruma grunted, pointing at Saihara with a wrench and holding a screwdriver with her mouth. “Horny bitch, I never took you for one. If I hadn’t seen it myself I would never have believed it.”

Not for the first time since he found out that Iruma accidentally saw him and Ouma making out a few days ago, Saihara cursed himself internally for being so careless.

“Please, just forget about it,” he grumbled, resting his forehead on the dining table again. 

“Ha-ha! Like I would forget such good blackmail material.” Iruma smirked, removing the screwdriver from her mouth and picking a slice of the apple K1-B0 cut for her from the fruit plate sitting next to her on the floor to eat it. “I got you on my hands, bitch.”

Once again, Shinguji scoffed. “I do not think it could be considered blackmail material since you’re not the only person aware about this. However, you must be more careful if you wish to maintain your relationship with Ouma-kun a secret, Saihara-kun,” the anthropologist calmly said, flipping another page of his book.

Saihara grumbled again. “There’s _no_ relationship, Shinguji-kun. We only made out once and I can’t forget about it, that’s all.”

“Just ask to suck his dick or something,” Iruma said, voice muffled by the screwdriver again in her mouth. Saihara ignored her.

“I think you should try asking him out again, Saihara-kun!” K1-B0 said with a supportive smile, both of his hands on his hips. “I don’t really understand human feelings that well yet, but I suppose you have what people call ‘a crush’.”

Iruma fucking lost her shit.

She choked on her saliva and started laughing so deeply that the screwdriver that was originally in her mouth went flying a few meters forward with the force of her spit. K1-B0 jumped startled by the sudden laughter, widening his eyes comically once again. Even Shinguji was chuckling at her exaggerated reaction, hiding his face behind his book to cover his giggles like his face was not already partially covered by his mask.

“D-did I say something wrong?!” K1-B0 asked, sounding actually worried, and Saihara would feel bad for him if his face wasn’t burning with embarrassment.

“Kiibo, you’re so fucking great,” Iruma said between loud laughter, whipping a tear away from her face. “God, Pooichi has such a bad taste for man. All the hot ladies and dudes here and he fell for the fuckin’ purple gremlin, it’s ridiculous.”

“I’m afraid we do not choose the ones we fall for,” Shinguji said, voice low and composed. K1-B0 nodded violently. “Even though I must admit this time that the subject of desire is rather… _Ah,_ notorious.”

“I’m- I’m not in love with him!” Saihara tried to argue, but Iruma only laughed louder. “I-I’m just… Weirdly attracted to him, that’s all!”

“Yeah, keep lyin’ to yourself, Sherlock Homo,” she snorted, returning to her task with the machine she was fixing, shoving another apple slice inside her mouth as she fixed something with the wrench. A moment passed before she looked up from the machine to Saihara, and a wicked smile appeared on her lips. “Oh, this is gonna be _great.”_

Saihara frowned. “What-”

But he didn’t have time to finish his sentence before a familiar additional weight was pressed against his back and slim arms circled his waist.

“Shumaaaai~~”

Saihara instantly _froze._

Dealing with Ouma was already hard enough when the boy was alone, but when Iruma was around? It was _twice as hard,_ because the inventor _liked_ to tease Saihara about his said “crush” on the smaller boy, and her provocations weren’t _nearly_ as friendly as Akamatsu’s.

(And the fact Ouma said his nickname in such a smooth and spoiled voice _did not_ help with this situation _at all.)_

“O-Ouma-kun,” Saihara said, turning around to face Ouma and allow the boy to hug him properly. Ouma happily did it, then looked around the other people in the dining hall.

“Well now that’s a weird combo of people,” he said, standing on his tiptoes to look at them from over Saihara’s shoulder. “Why are you hanging out with that filthy pig but not with me, Saihara-chan? You don’t love me anymore?”

“Get fucked,” Iruma said with a grunt, and Saihara didn’t need to look at her to know she was giving Ouma her middle finger.

“Please don’t talk to me,” Ouma shot back with a bored expression.

“Bitch.”

“Whore.”

“Thot.”

 _“Stop,”_ Saihara sighed, pressing the bridge of his nose. He then moved Ouma around so the boy had his back to Iruma and they couldn’t fight. “Is something wrong?”

Ouma made a hurtful expression, dramatically holding his chest. “What, I can’t look for you just because I feel like hanging out with you? Saihara-chan, that’s mean,” he sobbed, and heavy tears started streaming down his face.

“N-no, that’s not it!” Saihara quickly said, widening his eyes. “Of course we can hang out!”

 _“Wrecked,”_ he heard Iruma whisper and Shinguji snort, and promptly ignored both of them.

“Oh well,” Ouma smiled, any trace of previous tears or crying now gone.

“So, uh. Where do you wanna-” Saihara cut himself in the middle of his sentence, catching something with his peripheral vision. His eyes immediately widened at the scene going on behind Ouma when he properly looked at it.

It was Iruma, of course it was Iruma. Peeling a banana from the fruit plate next to her, wearing a naughty smile on her lips, and staring directly at Saihara. Her smirk grew wilder as she caught Saihara’s eyes on hers and held eye contact. He opened his mouth to ask her what she was planning to do since _no one_ peels a fruit with that expression, but before he could even ask her he suddenly felt all the air leaving his lungs.

Iruma picked the peeled banana, put it in her mouth.

And _deepthroated_ it.

Saihara _squeaked._

“Saihara-chan?” Ouma asked, and it was only then that Saihara noticed that the boy has been talking and he wasn’t paying attention. Noticing his vision course, Ouma tried to turn around to see what Saihara was looking at, but Saihara squeaked again and held his face still to keep him from looking around. “What’s-”

“N-nothing!” Saihara said in a high-pitched voice, trying to look anywhere but Iruma. He tried to focus on Ouma’s pretty confused face right in front of him, but he still could see Iruma from over Ouma’s head.

She easily removed the banana from her mouth (which, by the way, was _not_ that small), smirked at Saihara and pointed at Ouma with her chin suggestively before shoving the banana inside her mouth again, rolling her eyes to the back of her head, moaning softly.

“Oh my,” Saihara heard Shinguji whisper, sounding very interested on what she was doing.

“H-how rude,” K1-B0 mentioned, and Saihara didn’t know robots could blush until he saw the skin (skin colored metal? Silicone?) of K1-B0’s face acquring a pale tone of pink.

“What?” Ouma asked again, trying once more to turn around and check what was happening behind him and failing another time by Saihara’s squeezing his shoulders to keep him still.

“Let’s talk somewhere else, shall we?” Saihara said, voice trembling and face burning red at what Iruma was suggesting. He didn’t wait for an answer before dragging Ouma away from the dining hall by his arm, listening to Iruma’s loud, maniac laugh as they stepped away from there –why the hell did Saihara think it was a good idea to go to _Iruma_ for advices in the first place?

Saihara kept dragging Ouma by his arm until they were far away from the dining hall and Iruma’s loud giggles could no longer be heard. He only stopped when he was sure he couldn’t hear her, then let out a soft sigh of relief. He’s never been so scared in his entire life. _Goddammit,_ Iruma.

“Saihara-chan?” Ouma said, dragging Saihara’s attention back to him. Saihara jolted slightly, looking back at the small boy standing in front of him and praying to God for his face not to be too red. “What was going on there?”

“N-nothing! Don’t worry about it,” Saihara quickly answered with a nervous giggle, pinching the tip of his nose. He would never be able to eat or even look at a banana again. “You said, uh, you wanted to hang out?”

Ouma’s face lit up in excitement, and _god dammit_ why did he have to be so- “Yeah!” He said with starry eyes, smiling excitedly, but then his expression quickly turned into a sly one and Saihara instantly started to fear for his life. _Uh-oh._ “You see, Saihara-chan, we haven’t seen each other that much after that night at the courtyard,” he purred, taking a step closer to Saihara, but Saihara gulped and instinctively took one step back; although it was kinda late at night already and they were as far as possible from the dining hall, they still were in the middle of the school and pretty much _anyone_ could accidentally run into them and see them doing whatever Ouma was thinking of doing, and Saihara _did not_ want to have another person running into them. Just Iruma was enough torture. “It makes me feel sad, you know? You come to me, ask for a make out session and then starts avoiding me right after you got a taste. So, so mean, Saihara-chan.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Saihara said, but he’s pretty sure Ouma could see through his lie. 

“Ah, but it looks like you are,” Ouma said, taking another step towards Saihara. Once again, Saihara took one step back, but he ran out of space to step back when his back hit the wall of a classroom. “And it makes me really sad.”

Ouma stepped even closer, running a finger through Saihara’s chest and resting his other hand on the wall behind the detective to trap him there, and Saihara would’ve laughed at how comical Ouma’s small figure trying to cover his tall figure should be looking like from the outside if his heart wasn’t beating so fast inside his chest. In his point of view, it was kinda hot.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara whispered, eyes half-lidded. “We’re in public.”

Ouma hummed, standing on his tiptoes to bring his face closer to Saihara’s. “Were we not the last time?” He whispered, bringing his face even closer, using Saihara’s chest as a support for his weight, and although he didn’t want to admit it the boy kind of had a point, and he kinda liked it. Saihara automatically closed his eyes when he felt Ouma’s warm breath hiting his lips, waiting for the kiss, and honestly _fuck his stupid bi ass_ for being so easily manipulated by the purple-haired boy, but just when he thought that Ouma would finally kiss him and he would feel those lips against his own lips again, Ouma moved away with a giggle, casually putting his arms behind his head and smiling childishly. “But you’re right, we shouldn’t be doing this where anyone could see us. How about we go to the library and read a dirty book together?”

This little _shit._

“Okay,” Saihara sighed, letting out the breath he didn’t even realise he was holding. Ouma smiled at him, then turned on his heels and started walking towards the basement stairs with tiny bouncy steps. Saihara sighed again, ran his fingers through his hair and followed the boy towards the library.

It was as dusty and messy as Saihara remembered, full of old books scattered literally everywhere and some old things that Shinguji probably found interesting. Besides that, there were two small pouffes that Tojo placed there just in case anyone wanted to stay there to read a book. Nothing out of the ordinary. Saihara didn’t go to the library that often, but he figured it wasn’t a bad place to hang out; it was quiet and comfortable and the smell of books was quite nice, although the dust was a little bit of a problem. Maybe if the place was cleaned up he could enjoy it a little better.

By the time he finally entered the library Ouma had already picked a book and was leafing through the pages with a sly smile, chuckling with himself like a villain of a kids’ show.

“Oi, Saihara-chan, check this out,” he called from the bookshelf he picked the book from, wiggling his eyebrows at Saihara with his sly smile big on his lips like a naughty child. Saihara arched an eyebrow, curious about the contents of the book –sure, he’s been there before, but never _actually_ picked one of the books to leaf through, so he didn’t know what the book was about; however, Ouma _did_ suggest that they read a dirty book together. Was that book a dirty book? Why would Ouma want to read a dirty book? Saihara could do the dirty stuff with him if he wanted to.

Wait, what?

Cringing at himself, Saihara shook his thoughts away and stepped further into the library, going towards Ouma who was now lying down on one the pouffes with the thick book on his lap, still leafing through the pages. He sat down on the edge of the pouffe, next to Ouma, and leaned to look at the book the boy was holding.

He was greeted with a very graphic drawing of two people having sex.

Saihara immediately gasped and started coughing, eyes widening in shock as Ouma giggled in amusement, satisfied with his reaction.

“I found it a few days ago when I was looking for a ghosts book to scare Momota-chan,” the boy said, looking at the drawing with a smirk. “Sexy, isn’t it? Come here, take a better look.”

“Why are you reading this?” Saihara asked, face burning in embarrassment, then a better question popped in his mind. “Why do they have _porn_ in the _library?!”_

“Same reason why they have porn in the A/V room: for the horny teenagers to see,” Ouma shrugged, then grabbed the tip of Saihara’s hoodie and pulled him downward. Saihara fell next to Ouma with once again widened eyes, caught off guard, but didn’t make any efforts to move away when he fell on the fluffy pouffe, just moved his body until he found a comfortable position to stay. It wasn’t like Ouma was gonna let him walk away anyway.

Besides, he wasn’t gonna deny that he was kinda curious about the book. He _was_ a teenager, after all.

Ignoring the burning feeling on his cheeks, Saihara looked at the book pages when Ouma placed the book half on his own lap and half on Saihara’s, flipping a page for them to see another art. Saihara tried not to cringe when he was met with another lewd drawing, as graphic as the previous one, and was actually surprised to notice it was actually really well drawn. Whoever drew this shit actually knew a lot about human anatomy.

“This is actually really well drawn,” he couldn’t help but murmur as Ouma flipped a page again, another lewd yet really well drawn scene appearing before his eyes. “I’m impressed.”

“It is, right? I was impressed too,” Ouma murmured back, and Saihara almost jolted at how close Ouma’s voice sounded. It was only then that he noticed how close they actually were, with their sides completely pressed together and Ouma’s head practically resting on Saihara’s shoulders, soft hair tickling the detective’s cheeks, legs tangled together in a messy way. Saihara didn’t even notice Ouma throwing his legs over his. “Angie-chan could probably do better, though.”

“She probably could,” Saihara nodded, trying to ignore how fast his heart was beating and how hot the room felt. Did the library always feel this hot?

Ouma flipped the page again once they finished judging the art like they were pros on it and were used to do it every day, and then they were met with another lewd art.

This time, the art had two men.

“Oh,” Saihara breathed, instantly feeling his heartbeat increasing even more and, for a second, he was actually afraid that Ouma could hear how fast his heart was beating. He felt Ouma freezing for only a second by his side, his breath hitching for a moment before a shaky sigh was let out, and Saihara had to try with all his strength for the sigh not to affect him downwards; reading a dirty book with a guy alone in a library was already embarrassing enough as it was, he was _not_ going to get hard there. _Especially_ because of a stupid dirty book.

“That’s interesting,” Ouma murmured in the same low voice as before, voice kinda hoarse and slightly shaky, and Saihara was glad he was at least not the only one apparently being affected by the stupid book. “I haven’t reached this part before.”

“Yeah?” Saihara murmured back, but he didn’t know exactly what he was talking about. It was already too late. All his horny, stupid brain could think about was how good Ouma would look like in the position the guys in the art were, with his chest pressed against a wall and his ass lifted up for Saihara to shove his cock deep inside. “It’s nice.”

“It is,” Ouma breathed, then flipped the page again. Once again, the next page contained graphic drawing of two men having sex. Once again, both Saihara and Ouma sighed softly.

The soft sigh Ouma let out right next to his ear went straight to Saihara’s dick.

Once again, he wondered what he would look like if he fucked him in the same position as the couple in the art.

 _“Shit,”_ Saihara sighed, mind starting to get dizzy with his stupid dirty thoughts. In a haze, he wondered if it was possible to die of horny and if Ouma would be considered the blackened if this happened.

 _“Saihara-chan,”_ Ouma whispered next to him, and at the same time Saihara suddenly felt a hand touching his thigh behind the book. He tried not to jolt too apparently when slim fingers pressed his thigh softly, and turned his head to look at Ouma.

He was met with a slightly flushed face and intense lavender eyes darkened by lust, and Saihara had to hold up a moan when he saw that expression on Ouma’s face. It was a expression he often saw on his dirty dreams, but not even the dirtiest of his dirty dreams could beat the feeling of seeing it live and _real._

They managed to hold eye contact for about ten seconds before they both dived at the same time, their lips meeting halfway through.

Like their first kiss, this one already started deep and fiery and so goddamn _dirty_ that Saihara’s head started spinning violently as he opened his mouth to allow Ouma’s tongue to dive in. They both moaned when their tongues met, kiss quickly becoming ten times as dirty with the sounds they were both making echoing around the silent library. Throwing the book away, Ouma wasted no time before throwing his legs over Saihara’s and climbing on his lap, sitting on the detective’s already kind-of-embarrassingly-hard cock and giving a slow but harsh thrust that took another deep moan from both of them, and Saihara swore that Ouma would be the death of him.

Saihara brought his hands to Ouma’s bony hips when the boy once again thrusted his hips forward and grinded harshly against his erection, taking another moan from both of them and feeling his cock grow even harder when Ouma moved slightly in his lap and he noticed that his cock was right in the division of the boy’s ass, even through too many layers of clothes.

Too many, too many. He needed to-

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara breathed against the boy’s mouth, pushing Ouma’s hips forwards for him to grind against him again. He sighed, Ouma moaned. “C-can I- can-”

He didn’t even finish his sentence, but he was answered with Ouma’s hand travelling through his chest before landing on his cock over his too-tight pants. Saihara let out a strangled gasp against Ouma’s mouth when he felt the boy pressing his dick softly over the thick material of his pants, and felt Ouma smiling against his lips.

“Only if I can too,” he whispered, giving Saihara a soft stroke from over his pants with one hand and fumbling with the zipper with the one, making the detective gasp a groan again.

“You can,” Saihara replied, eyes closed and eyebrows pressed together, nodding violently. “Yes, _fuck,_ yeah you can.”

“Hmmm,” Ouma hummed, sly smirk still present on his lips as he rolled his hips downward again and slid his hand under Saihara’s pants at the same time, grabbing the hardened cock and giving another soft stroke. Saihara moaned against Ouma’s ear, moving to sit down in the pouffe to make their job easier, holding Ouma by the waist with one arm and sliding his free hand under Ouma’s pants to finally touch him. _Finally._

Almost two months of stupid dirty dreams led to this moment. Fucking _finally._

Ouma moaned quietly against Saihara’s ear when he freed his hardened cock from the underwear and gave the first stroke, and Saihara was sure he would never get tired of the beautiful sounds Ouma made when he was aroused. 

Ouma hid his face on the curvature of Saihara’s neck when he started stroking him, small sighs and moans escaping from his mouth right next to Saihara’s ear, each moan going straight to Saihara’s cock, which was now also freed from the underwear and was being stroked in the same rhythm as Ouma’s. It was difficult to maintain a steady stroke rhythm when literally all of Saihara’s dirty dreams were becoming true, but he tried his best. And judging by Ouma’s soft moans and trembling body, he was doing quite a good job.

However, precisely because his dreams were coming true, Saihara knew he wasn’t gonna last long.

“O-Ouma-kun,” he whined, eyes squeezed shut but with some stubborn tears streaming down his face, automatically increasing the intensity of his strokes when he felt his orgasm growing in the pit of his stomach. He hid his face on Ouma’s neck and bit the skin in the crook of the neck quite harshly, breaking the skin with his canines and causing Ouma to whimper and moan. _“O-Ouma-kun!”_

Knowing what was about to happen, Ouma moved his face away from Saihara’s neck and held the back of the detective’s head with his free hand, never slowing down the rhythm of his strokes with the other hand, enlacing his slim fingers with the messy strands of Saihara’s nape and pulling his face forward for a kiss. Their lips met in an open mouthed kiss, tongues sliding together and moans being swallowed by each other as they both felt their respective orgasms growing closer, their strokes starting to get sloppier and unsteady.

They both hit their orgasm almost at the same time, with Saihara coming just a little earlier than Ouma. Ouma whimpered and bit Saihara’s lower lip a little too harsh when he came, causing a small cut and making the detective taste iron on his lips, but Saihara didn’t mind; he kind of hurt the supreme leader’s neck, after all. Their with their moans echoed loudly around the library as they came, and Saihara never felt so glad for the library to be on the basement of the school before.

After the bliss of their orgasm passed and the kiss was broken, they touched their foreheads together to recover their breath and recover themselves. Once their breathing was steady again, Ouma started giggling. Saihara didn’t know why, but he started giggling as well. They both promptly ignored the stickiness of their clothes as they put their softened cocks back inside their pants. Even after that, Ouma didn’t move away from Saihara’s lap.

The supreme leader smiled quietly, and it was a smile that quite fit his pretty face. “Hi,” he said, forehead pressed against Saihara’s.

“Hi,” Saihara said back in the same whisper, almost like they were trading secrets. He hugged the boy by his waist, pulling him closer and capturing red swollen lips on his own chapped and slightly bloody lips; if Ouma minded the blood, he didn’t say anything, just promptly kissed the detective back.

The kiss wasn’t as dirty as their previous ones, but still was pretty much deep and intense and it took quiet sighs and moans from both of them. It was only when the kiss was over, when the air made itself necessary, that Saihara caught something on his peripheral vision.

There was someone standing in the library’s front door.

It was Momota.

He widened his eyes like a deer caught in flashlights at his best friend standing skeptically at the front door with eyes equally widened.

“Uh,” Saihara said, with Ouma pretty much still sitting in his lap and his arms still around the supreme leader’s waist, both with their hair messy and tangled and with swollen lips and an afterglow expression. “It’s… Not what it looks like?”

“Hey there, Momota-chan~” Ouma said with a shit-eating grin, waving lazily at Momota and doing no efforts to move away from Saihara’s lap.

Saihara waited for the explosion. He waited for Momota to start yelling at him and cursing and breaking stuff in the library out of anger, saying he was disowned and was no longer his best friend, but none of this happened. Instead, Momota did something that surprised Saihara even more.

He started crying.

Ugly, fat tears started rolling down his face like a waterfall, and Saihara couldn’t do anything but stare at him in silence, too shocked to say anything. Even Ouma seemed surprised, staring silently at Momota with furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes.

Then, after what looked like a minute or two of silently crying, Momota asked: “Why?”

“Why?” Saihara parroted, also furrowing his eyebrows. Why in the library? Why in a public place? Why he didn't tell him? Why-

“Why Ouma?”

Ouma snorted, Saihara’s brows furrowed even deeper.

“Why he, bro?” Momota asked, heavy tears violently streaming down his face. Saihara never saw Momota sounding so broken before. “Do you hate me, bro? Why he? There’s so many good people here, so why the bastard who causes trouble for everyone? Why?”

“Uh,” Saihara blinked, still too astonished with this entire situation to form a proper sentence. Then, he remembered what Shinguji said earlier. “...Because we don’t choose the ones we fall for?”

“The ones we fall for, bro?” Momota echoed his words, voice breaking in the last word, and started crying even more. “Are you saying you two are together?” Saihara opened his mouth to answer, but Momota started shaking his head negatively and interrupted him. “You know what? Don’t answer this. I’m devastated, completely heartbroken. Betrayed by my own bro, I can’t believe it.”

He then turned on his heels and left the library, sniffing and cleaning his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, tears dripping a path on the floor as he walked away until disappearing in a corner. The library fell silent for another minute or two before Ouma bursted out laughing.

“Holy _shit,”_ Ouma said between maniacal laughter. “This was _amazing.”_

Saihara couldn’t help but chuckle with him. “He actually sounds sad, though.”

“He’s being dramatic. He’ll get over it,” Ouma waved a dismissing hand, gradually stopping laughing. He then turned to face Saihara, shit-eating grin back on his lips and an arched eyebrow. _“Eventually.”_

Saihara giggled, shaking his head. “I’m actually worried, though. I’ve never seen him cry.”

“Like I said, he’s being dramatic,” Ouma replied, once again waving a dismissing hand. Reluctantly, he left Saihara’s lap and stood, stretching and cracking his bones for being sat down for too long. It was only then that Saihara noticed the very obvious stain on the boy’s hoodie, darkening the white cloth; looking down at his own hoodie, he noticed the matching stain. “Now, Saihara-chan,” Ouma proceeded, drawing Saihara’s attention back at him. He had his smug smile on his lips, index finger in front of his lips like he was about to tell a secret, fire behind dirty eyes. Saihara loved that expression. “How about we move to somewhere more private so we can proceed from where we stopped?”

Saihara never stood so fast in his entire life.  
  


* * *

  
Ouma hit the bed with a hollow thud.

Saihara was hovering him in a second, hungry lips searching for its destination as expert hands ran through milky skin with a fierce that none of them knew before. Ouma moaned in Saihara’s lips as they initiated yet another one of their wet and dirty kisses that were starting to turn into a normal occurrence for them, lithe legs unconsciously wrapping around Saihara’s small waist as the detective with the urge of one thousand men and squeezed the skin of his thighs with enough strength to probably leave some bruises behind, and Ouma loved every single second of this. They moaned in syncrony when Saihara thrusted his hips forward and their bare, already hardened cocks rubbed against each other with a divine friction that left Saihara in a haze.

He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

Still with Ouma’s kiss-swollen lips captured on his, Saihara blindly searched for the lube that was thrown somewhere on the bed, finding it among the blankets after a few seconds of hurried search. Still blindly, he opened the bottle and poured a considerable amount of the transparent liquid on three of his fingers, his mind going back to what Iruma had said to him when she gave him the lube, the condoms and, uh… A few other things that Saihara probably wouldn’t use.

 _“Do not save up,”_ she had said, holding the lube bottle up. _“Use as much as you want so you won’t hurt the purple brat or whatever. Not that a give a fat shit about that bastard.”_

Saihara shoved the thoughts aside as he brought his lube-soaked fingers to Ouma’s entrance, mentally thanking Iruma for some of the advices she gave him. Without her, he would be kinda in the dark here.

Ouma sighed when Saihara touched his entrance with cold and soaked fingers, back unconsciously arching in the bed. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Saihara said.

“Mhm,” Ouma nodded, eyes closed and mouth half-opened. “Go ahead, Shumai.”

Saihara nodded as well, fingers slowly circling the area around Ouma’s entrance for the boy to relax before slowly pressing the first finger forward. Ouma’s breath hitched, a small sigh escaping from his lips as Saihara slowly shoved the first finger in until it was up to the knuckle. Once the finger was entirely inside Ouma, Saihara stopped to let the boy get used to the intruse, moving to kiss his pretty flushed face as he waited. After a moment, Ouma started to impatiently moving his hips for contact, and Saihara took that as a sign to start moving his finger.

He pulled the finger out and slowly shoved it back in, causing Ouma to breath out a quiet moan. Saihara did it again, a little faster this time, and Ouma moaned again, rolling his hips against Saihara’s finger, basically fucking himself in his finger. After a moment, when Ouma was already used to the first finger, Saihara shoved the second one in, scissoring him open and twisting his digits inside of him, and the rolls of Ouma’s hips increased even more. They kept this pattern up to the third finger, when Ouma started to get impatient of finger-fucking himself with the detective’s fingers.

 _“Shumai,”_ Ouma called in a shaky voice, sweat glueing his messy hair to his forehead and face flushed in a beautiful tone of pink, lips half-opened and hands wrapped around Saihara’s dark hair strands as the detective fingered him. _“I’m ready.”_

“You sure?” Saihara asked, kissing Ouma’s face with three of his fingers still inside the boy. Ouma nodded.

Saihara nodded as well, then reluctantly stopped kissing the boy’s face and removed his fingers from the boy. Ouma grumbled with the lack of contact once Saihara did this, making an adorable grumpy face as Saihara moved to grab the condom he left on the bed with the lube before they began. He found it after some research, finding it lost in the middle of the blankets, then ripped the foil with his teeth and slid the condom on his hardened cock, applying a generous quantity of lube and stroking himself a couple of times to properly spread the liquid before positioning himself between Ouma’s legs and hovering the boy again, guiding his cock to his entrance with his hand.

“Are you okay?” Saihara asked, the tip of his cock pressing Ouma’s entrance just slightly enough for the boy to start breathing expectantly. “Tell me if this hurts too much or you want me to stop, okay?”

“Yeah yeah. Go on already, Shumai,” Ouma impatiently said, rolling his eyes, and Saihara was sharply reminded of how bratty Ouma could be sometimes. He smiled quietly, let out a soft scoff and then took a deep breath before starting to press himself against Ouma.

He started pressing himself against Ouma’s entrance slowly, not wanting to hurt him, trying to give the boy time to adjust to the sudden size being pressed inside of him, because although Saihara wasn’t _that_ big, his cock was still thicker than his fingers, so it probably hurted like hell to have such a thick thing being shoved up his ass like that even if slowly. He wanted to be careful.

But then, again, Saihara was reminded of how bratty Ouma could be.

Ouma wrapped his legs around Saihara’s waist once the tip of Saihara’s cock was inside of him, planted the heel of his feet on Saihara’s ass and _forced_ the detective’s hips down, the lube-soaked cock easily sliding down almost to the base.

Saihara gasped, both by how amazing it felt to have Ouma all around him like that and by the sudden shock, widening his eyes at the boy beneath him. “O-Ouma-kun!”

Ouma was smirking with his eyes half-lidded, the smug bastard. “I’m not a doll, Saihara-chan,” he said, “you don’t need to be so gentle.”

“I-I know, but-” Saihara tried. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Ouma said. “Now move.”

“But-”

 _“Move,”_ Ouma repeated, a little more serious than before, and it was kind of hot. He then arched his eyebrows in a challenging way. “Or _I_ will fuck _you.”_

Tempting. It was actually tempting, but Saihara didn’t want to step away now. Maybe another day. So Saihara pressed his lips in a thin line as he gulped and moved his hips slowly, still not wanting to hurt Ouma, pulling his cock almost entirely out before shoving it back in, taking a low moan from Ouma and a sigh from himself.

 _“Shit,”_ he whispered under his breath, doing the movement again. Once again, Ouma moaned from the back of his throat, and it was one of the prettiest sounds Saihara’s ever heard. He pulled himself out and slid back in again, this time a little more intense than before, and a strangled moan escaped from his lips.

They were doing it. They were actually doing it, this wasn’t one of Saihara’s dirty dreams, this was reality.

He really had Ouma under him with a flushed face and eyes misty with lust, hair sprawled on his pillow, red marks all over his neck and his fucking legs wrapped around him as he shoved his cock deeply inside of him. They were _fucking._

Saihara felt all the weight of his dirty dreams on his shoulders as he thrusted his hips forward and fucked Ouma like he was meant to do. Fucking _finally._

The speed of his thrusts increased even before he noticed it, and Ouma seemed more than happy with it. Saihara brought one of his hands to Ouma’s neglected cock, trying to stroke him in the same speed as his thrusts, and the purple-haired boy smiled in ecstasy as Saihara fucked him hard and deeply, his short nails marking red paths on Saihara’s back and lithe legs wrapped around his waist to help him with his thrusts, choked moans escaping from his mouth with each thrust and each stroke of Saihara’s hand on his dick.

“Ye- _yes,_ yes. _Fuck,_ Sai- Saihara-chan, _ah,_ like that, y-yes, _yes,”_ Ouma moaned each word and each moan echoed around the room like a dirty melody, and Saihara loved every second of it. He loved the sounds Ouma was making, he loved the lewd expression on his face, he loved the dirty haze in his eyes, he loved the way he rolled his hips downward and pressed Saihara’s waist with his thighs to make him go deeper inside of him and he loved the fact that Ouma was like that because of _him._

Fuck, what he felt for the boy wasn’t simple curiosity caused by his dreams. Saihara was whipped, gone, wrecked. He was head over heels for Ouma.

Saihara Shuichi was a hundred percent, truly, madly and deeply in love with Ouma Kokichi, and he hasn’t noticed it until _now._ Not until he had his cock shoved so deeply inside of him that was hard for him to see where he ended and Ouma started.

God, how stupid a person could be?

He whined, tears escaping through his squeezed shut eyes and streaming down his face because of overwhelming feelings. Lust, pleasure, happiness, bliss. Ouma moaning. It was too much.

“Ouma-kun. _Kokichi,”_ Saihara moaned, thrusts starting to get shaky and unsteady, eyes still squeezed shut and eyebrows pressed together. _“Fuck,_ I’m- I’ll-”

Ouma understood what he meant right away, pulling Saihara’s face down and connecting their lips on an open-mouthed and obscene kiss, tongues dancing together to the dirty melody of their moans and skin-on-skin contact.

 _“Together,”_ Ouma whined on Saihara’s mouth, and judging by the way he was trembling and his breath was hitching he was also close. “Let’s come together again.”

It didn’t take long for Saihara to come with a loud cry and a long, strangled moan after that, opening his eyes just in time to see Ouma also hitting his own orgasm and honestly? His lewd dreams were good, but they couldn’t even _compare_ to reality.

Nothing could compare to the sight of Ouma’s back arching on the bed and his lustful eyes rolling to the back of his head as he came, his face flushed and wet with tears and hair glued to his forehead with sweat, his shaky breath, his blissful smile. _Nothing_ could compare to that. It was the prettiest thing Saihara’s ever seen in his entire life.

After having what seemed to be the best orgasm in his life, Saihara slowly removed himself from Ouma. He took off the condom, threw it away and laid down by the boy’s side, facing the grey ceiling above them with a racing heartbeat and shaky breath. None of them said anything for what seemed to be hours, but Saihara figured it couldn’t be more than five minutes. It was Ouma who broke the silence, still glowing with his post-orgasm, blindly searching for Saihara’s hand on the bed so he could intertwine their fingers.

“Well,” he said, still staring at the ceiling, giggling softly. “That was intense.”

“Yeah,” Saihara hummed, giving Ouma’s hand a soft squeeze. He turned his head around to look at the boy, facing the side of his pretty face, and narrowed his eyes. “A good kind of intense, I hope?”

“Fuck yeah, you better bet it was good,” Ouma giggled again, eying Saihara sideways. He then closed his eyes, smiled and moved closer to Saihara, snuggling against his arm.

Saihara moved closer to Ouma, blinking slowly. He was starting to get sleepy. “It’s getting late. You should go back to your room.”

“No, I want snuggle,” Ouma childishly said, throwing his legs over Saihara’s, and it sort of surprised Saihara; he didn’t have Ouma for a clingy person after sex. It wasn’t a bad kind of surprise, though.

“Okay,” he found himself nodding, interested in the idea of snuggling. _Actually_ sleeping with someone sounded nice. “... We still need to shower, though. We’re covered in sweat.”

This seemed to catch Ouma’s interest, for he opened only one eye to look at Saihara and arched and eyebrow. “Shower sex? Still not satisfied, Shumai? How dirty of you~”

“N-no! I mean _actually_ shower,” Saihara quickly explained himself, but Ouma only giggled.

“Aw,” the smaller boy said. “And here I thought we would have a second round. Shower sex sounds nice.”

Saihara arched an eyebrow, actually surprised. “Can you still handle a second round?”

Ouma also arched an eyebrow, a spark of _something_ flashing behind his lavender eyes, and a shiver ran down Saihara’s spine. “Can _you_ handle a second round?”

_Oh._

_Oh?_

“Oh?” Saihara said out loud, suddenly interested on what Ouma had in mind and very awake. “I’m listening.”

Ouma smiled one of his naughty smiles, biting his lips before moving up to catch Saihara’s lips on his. Saihara promptly kissed him back with the same eager.

The night was not over yet.  
  


* * *

  
For the first time in almost two months, Saihara didn’t have a lewd dream.

Also for the first time in almost two months (and probably his entire life), he woke up with someone by his side on his bed. 

He woke up to the daily morning announcement, but the first thing he noticed once he was kicked away from the dreamland was the additional pressure on his back and the additional pair of legs wrapped around his. Confused by the morning haze, it took his brain a while to get back to the events of last night, flashes of naked skin and purple hair strands flashing behind his eyelids like a dirty movie. Smiling at himself and the slight sting in his lower back, Saihara looked over his shoulders to Ouma still sleeping with his arms wrapped around the detective’s waist, forehead pressed against his shoulder blades, chest going up and down with his steady breath. There was a dry path of drool on his left cheek.

Saihara smiled at the view, his heart doing flips inside his chest. God, he was so gone.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” he said with a soft smile, voice hoarse from sleep.

After a moment, Ouma smiled and opened an eye to look at Saihara. “Aw, you got me.”

Saihara giggled again, kissing Ouma’s forehead and pointing at the wild hair strand at the top of the boy’s head. “Morning, Ouma-kun. We have matching ahoges now.”

“Morning, Shumai,” Ouma replied, closing his eyes to stretch, not seeming to mind the apparently wild hair strand. He stretched like a cat, Saihara noticed. “What happened to Kokichi?”

“What?” Saihara blinked, confused.

“Last night you called me Kokichi,” Ouma explained, kissing Saihara’s shoulder blades. “What happened to it?”

“Ah,” Saihara said, face flushing a soft tone of pink. He _did,_ in fact, call Ouma ‘Kokichi’ last night. Multiple times. “Do you, um… Do you want me to call you Kokichi?”

“Yeah, if we’re gonna be boyfriends now we gotta be first-name basis, don’t we?”

“B-boyfriends?!”

“Yeah,” Ouma shrugged, simple. “You shoved your dick up my ass and I shoved mine up yours, so we gotta be boyfriends now, yeah?” He then paused, lips pressed on a thin line. Heavy tears started streaming down his face. “Or are you gonna tell me you just used me and now you don’t want me anymore? Are you gonna kick me out, Saihara-chan?”

“O-of course not! Of course I want you!” Saihara quickly explained, sitting down on the bed. “I was just surprised we’re on the same page, that’s all.”

“Oh well,” Ouma said, crocodile tears suddenly stopping. He also sat down in bed, smirking suggestively. “So we’re boyfriends now, uh? I think they might want to change my Ultimate talent to Ultimate Luckster~”

“Stop it,” Saihara giggled, pushing Ouma slightly before leaving the bed and stretching. He went to the bathroom to wash his face and teeth, then walked to his closet to pick his outfit for today. “I’ll lead to the dining hall first, okay?”

“...Okay, but why?” Ouma asked, frowning.

“Why, because not everyone knows about us,” Saihara simply replied, grabbing an oversized grey sweater, then turned on his heels to look at Ouma. “You saw Momota-kun’s reaction, right? Can you imagine how _Harukawa-san_ will react?”

Ouma snorted. “Honestly? She’ll probably try to kill me.”

 _“Exactly,”_ Saihara nodded, putting the sweater on. “So see you there, yeah?”

“Nop,” Ouma replied, popping the ‘p’, putting his arms behind his head. “I don’t have to eat.”

“What?” Saihara stopped, surprised. “Why?”

Ouma smirked, placing his index finger in front of his mouth. “I have a whole meal right here in front of me.”

 _“See you,_ Kokichi,” Saihara snorted, slipping into black skinny pants and then into his shoes before going to Ouma still on his bed, pecking him on the lips and then finally leaving his room. Once he was outside, he didn’t see anyone around the dormitory. Good. It meant Ouma would be able to leave his room without anyone noticing it.

Pretty much everyone was already at the dining hall when Saihara arrived it, except for Ouma (who was in his room), Yumeno (who Saihara saw on his way to the dining hall, along with Chabashira) and Gonta. Tojo was already serving breakfast with Hoshi and Shinguji’s help when he arrived, and the others were too focused on their respective conversations to notice him walking into the place. The only one who noticed him was Akamatsu, who promptly waved at him from her usual seat, and Momota.

Momota wasn’t brave enough to look Saihara in the eyes.

Flashes of Momota comically crying his eyes out yesterday at the library zapped behind his eyes, and Saihara had to hold back the urge to laugh. He silently made his way to his usual spot next to Akamatsu and sat down, trying not to jolt too apparently when his ass complained a bit.

“Morning, Shuichi,” Akamatsu said, biting her toast. “You seem happier today. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, holding back a smile. He couldn’t say he actually _slept_ well, but the night was good, yes. “You?”

“It was fine,” Akamatsu replied, shrugging. “No dreams today?”

“No dreams today,” Saihara replied, and this time he actually smiled. He thanked Tojo when she placed a plate with toasts and a mug with coffee in front of him, then started a conversation with Akamatsu and Shirogane.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but it wasn’t long before Ouma finally arrived at the dining hall in his usual extrovert self, with all the wide smiles and giggles and outgoing manner that annoyed everyone but Saihara.

“Morning, everyone!” He said once he made his way into the dining way, waving at Tojo to let her know he was going to eat before walking towards Saihara. He stopped by the detective’s side. “Ah, Shumai, is this seat taken?”

Saihara looked down to where Ouma was pointing. “That’s my-” But he didn’t have time to finish his sentence before Ouma happily installed himself on Saihara’s lap. Akamatsu giggled and Iruma started cursing, but no one really minded him. It wasn’t like this was the first time Ouma teased Saihara in public anyway.

“Oh my,” came Angie’s voice front the other side of the table, a little bit louder than the general chitchat, making Saihara turn to look at her. “Is that a hickey on Shuichi’s neck?”

Saihara froze.

 _Now_ everyone’s eyes were on him.

He instantly regretted not picking a hoodie to wear this morning.

There was a moment of an incredibly uncomfortable silence just of people’s eyes going from Saihara to Ouma and from Ouma to Saihara, trying to assimilate what a hickey not only on Saihara’s neck but also on Ouma’s and Ouma sitting on his lap meant before the chaos was finally installed and the shit went down.

Iruma stood so suddenly that her chair fell backwards with a loud and metallic thud, putting one of her feet on the dining table and pointing violently at Shirogane. _“Pay up, bitch!”_

“What?!” Shirogane jolted on her seat, holding her chest. “Why do _I_ have to pay up?!”

“I told you they would fuck before the end of the month!” Iruma shouted, pointing her finger at Shirogane again just for emphasis. “Now pay up!”

“Why do a hickey state that they fucked?!” Shirogane tried to argue, pointing at Saihara and Ouma but looking at Iruma. “How do you know they didn’t simply made out?!”

“Oh you _wish,_ Plain Jane,” Iruma laughed _hysterically._ “Now you better pass me those fuckin’ Monocoins, bitch!”

“You _bet_ on us?!” Saihara angrily said, realizing where their conversation was going. “Seriously?!”

“Are you two _together?!”_ Harukawa asked from her seat next to Momota, face in a mix of disbelief, confusion and anger.

“Ah, so _this_ is why you didn’t have a dream today, uh? Shuichi, you dog,” Akamatsu said next to Saihara, pushing him slightly with her elbow and smirking.

“Momota-kun is crying!” K1-B0 yelped, holding his head exasperated. Saihara looked away from Harukawa to Momota and saw that yes, Momota was crying again.

“Answer me, Saihara!” Harukawa angrily grunted, slamming her palms on the table.

“Iruma-san, please don’t stand on the dining table!” Tojo said with the voice of an angry mom, trying to remove Iruma from the table with K1-B0’s help. Shirogane was also standing, trying to argue with Iruma about the bet they apparently made.

“Ah, nothing better than a fight at the dining hall at 10am to start my day,” Hoshi casually said from his seat, sipping his tea. Shinguji nodded next to him, sipping from his own tea.

“What happened?! Why Momota-kun is crying?!” Gonta said as exasperated as K1-B0, having heard the commotion and come to the dining hall to see what was happening and seeing it basically on fire. Momota seemed to cry louder and harder. K1-B0 was panicking. Iruma and Shirogane were fiercely arguing, Chabashira was trying to hold Harukawa with the kitchen knife back. “Why Ouma-kun on Saihara-kun’s lap?!”

“Gonta, I’ll explain to you when you’re older,” Amami giggled, placing a hand on Gonta’s shoulder on his way to the kitchen to run from the chaos.

Saihara sighed, looking away from the chaotic scene going on before his to take a sip from his coffee. Ouma was still on his lap, laughing at the mess they have caused, seeming to be having the time of his life. “Happy?” He asked the boy, trying his best to sound disappointed but also trying to hide his amusement.

“Fuck, _yes,”_ Ouma answered, eating Saihara’s toasts and snuggling on his lap. Saihara circled him with his arms and kissed his shoulder blades, seeing no point of holding back now that everyone knew about them. “What’s better than this? A sudden relationship announcement during breakfast with a murder threat and people crying. _Beautiful.”_

Saihara sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose, but let out a soft snort. Although they only got together the night before, now they could act like a couple around their friends as much as they wanted. Plus the chaos, he figured Ouma would be having fun at a time like this.

(Well, it wasn’t like he wasn’t having some sort of fun, too.)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes they fucked twice in a row and Shuichi bottomed in the second round. No I will not elaborate.
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts about the story! If you wanna see me thirsting for 2D characters or babbling about random shit or yell at me just hit me up @ twitter. I'm [@kamukouma](twitter.com/kamukouma). I also draw sometimes.


End file.
